


Never Let Go

by CYCLOPSCORE



Series: Amidst the Fragrant Flowers [1]
Category: Violet Evergarden (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Let Amy be happy please, Useless Lesbians, minor canon compliance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:01:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25125889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CYCLOPSCORE/pseuds/CYCLOPSCORE
Summary: A Golden Auto Memoria Doll who is burdened by placing her duty ahead of love.A girl who tried to confess to the Golden Auto Memoria Doll, but is now chained in the walls of monotony and solitude.A friend and journalist who sought to figure out the truth of all there is between these two.Three different girls, friends old and new, one connected to the other, have their fates tangle. A tragedy from the past will reach a happy conclusion. And a second path is about to open.The beginning to this VE Yuri AU. Compliant to the first film, but not the upcoming second film. The Major is still gone. Characters from both Anime and LN are present.Note, that for this story, the chapters would be posted less frequently.
Relationships: Amy Bartlett | Isabella York/Violet Evergarden, Luculia Marlborough/Violet Evergarden
Series: Amidst the Fragrant Flowers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820110
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	1. You Must (Not) Stop

“Violet... please wait!”, Amy cried at the entrance of the school. She had to say it now. The girl who had helped her for so long, the girl who bathed with her, the girl who danced with her, the girl who made her feel happy after so long... was leaving before her eyes. If she let go now, she might never see Violet again. Amy would likely marry a noble, never again to set foot outside, never again to see the one she loved so much. She would be a star-crossed bird in a cage. The blonde girl named Violet Evergarden turned.

“What is it?”, she asked. Even with the stoic demeanour she always had, she seemed troubled. It was like she did not want them to part either. It was like she longed for a sign that Amy wanted to be by her side with her.

Amy stopped. She had to say it now. And yet, her own mouth betrayed how she truly felt, and she did not know why.

“Take care.”

Amy’s mind raced across the place, and her heart sank at the horrible realisation of what she had said. She blew it. She should have confessed. But here, she only said a normal parting phrase. Why did she betray herself? Why did she betray Violet? Amy silently cursed herself to no end, while struggling to ask these questions. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, she could not say it out.

Violet made a small smile, even through this pain. “You too, Amy.”. Without a word afterwards, she walked away further and further, vanishing down the pathway, clearly hurt by this shallow response.

Yet it hurt just as much for the girl whose name was veiled by the moniker of Isabella York. Tears started to fall. Why was it was she such a coward? She was not willing to stand up to say that she wanted Taylor to be taken with her to the life of nobility. Now she could not even tell someone that she loved her. Why was she so feeble? Why did her heart and mind betray her so much? Tears started to fall. Yet no tears could undo the damage Amy had put on herself.

And now, a price had to be paid.

...

And she awoke. In the same bed, the same mansion. Amy was now a wife. It had been three years since that tragedy, she lamented, resting on the white bedsheets. The nightmares she cast upon herself would not stop hurting her. Three years of inner suffering.

She had been forced into marrying Count Neville, just to secure some wealth and power between their families. To Amy, he could not be called a husband in, and she also refused to call herself his wife in her heart. Even with the garden he had, it meant nothing if Violet was not there. Even with riches, it meant nothing if Amy could not give it to Taylor. The law cast upon her, which prevented her from leaving or bringing anyone inside the mansion, prevented this from happening. Taylor and Violet were gone in her life, and there is nothing the Count can do to fill the void.

The only solace then was when a letter came, from Taylor, where she knew it was Violet who helped her do this. Even though she was happy, it was only temporal. She knew it still meant they would be where they were, miles apart, only communicating with letters, paper and ink.

And then, another tragedy came a few months after that. Now, the Count had been recently caught out for having sex with maids and prostitutes, and bribing witnesses. Of course, such a scandal would not pass. By the orders of Princess Charlotte, such acts are a primal disgrace, and the mansion was stormed. People marched in signs, clearly as betrayed as she was. The garden near the mansion was burnt. Most of the guards resigned. The mansion was mostly in a wreck with flung bricks and sledgehammers. As she turned, she saw the broken window, only being held together with scotch tape. As she imagined, they would probably be mad at her as well. They would accuse her of being too dumb to not find this out herself, and they would not care about what she says to defend herself.

“Nothing good happens to me... it’s all my fault, isn’t it?”, Amy slowly lamented, sitting down beside one of the cold walls of the mansion. There was no one to blame for this debacle she was in, except herself.

...

(Meanwhile, in Leiden)

“Photos are still so hard to take, huh?”, a redhead with freckles said with a sigh, looking at the blurry black and white photos. She just wanted to take a photo of a still tree nearing autumn, yet that was also blurry. It would be a long while before that issue is fixed. Even with a world where innovation is on the rise, there were so many things to be solved. Fortunately, some of them were picture perfect, thus her efforts were not entirely at waste.

Luculia’s new job as an Auto Memoria Doll was in the large industry of journalism, where she took photos, wrote accounts and documents, and sent them to newspaper and documentary outlets. Frankly, she was good at it, even the photos. To her, it revealed things slightly better than writing letters, something she has well understood about during her many months in the job. And to speak of letters... Luculia heard some familiar voices in the distance, and she turned to see who was there.

“Is that Big Sister Luculia?”, a girl cried, with some missing teeth and orange hair brushed in pigtails.

“Yes. Yes.”, a much older blonde, wearing a blue dress and with mechanical arms replied.

“And it seems she is taking photos?”, a girl inbetween the other two in terms of height, sporting short lilac hair, and glasses added in.

It was indeed them, and Luculia was excited. “Ah, Violet, Lux, Taylor! What are you three doing here?”. This was not the first of such encounters. It was another coincidence, all on the streets. 

“Good afternoon, Luculia. I was going to find lunch for Lux and Taylor.”, Violet responded, as she approached her old friend. She was sounding less of her stoic self and more of a tired mom. There was no hiding this, for she was sweating heavily, and her normally straight and well-groomed hair was rather undone. “Do you want to join us?”

“Yeah. Besides, I can’t get these photos right...”, Luculia sighed. She was not so hungry, but she reasoned that she could find a joint to spend some time, separating the perfect and ruined photos. Besides, it would be nice to talk to her old friend, given how busy both of them can get.

“Very well. There is a western brunch a few blocks away. I will pay for everyone.”, Violet responded at this, knowing Luculia was not exactly well-off financially. With that, she pulled out her purse, with many dollar bill notes stuffed inside from many clients.

“That would not be needed. Let me settle my own food.”, Luculia responded in modesty, even though she knew she only had so little notes in her own wallet. But that can matter later.

...

“So, is Taylor adapting to her place just fine?”, Luculia asked, as she and Lux were sipping down on orange juice.

“Yes. She is learing how to ghostwrite for others.", Violet responded, while taking small sips on fresh Earl Grey tea. "She is treated well, as far as I am concerned.”

To speak on that, it made Luculia wonder about a few things. “Hey, Violet, where did Taylor come from?”, she questioned.

Violet froze at that question, and put her hand to her chin. How should she explain this? “It is a long story, but I will try my best to make it short. She was from the slums, and was taken care of by an older girl. However, she had to leave after she was found for being actually a noble, and Taylor was taken to the orphanage.”

Luculia let the starting words sink in. “Who was this older girl? Did you know?”

Violet gulped. “This was what I think will be harder to explain. Did you remember that I had to leave three years ago to a school in Drossel? I was gone for three to six months, if I remember correctly.”

Now it hit Luculia. Yes, Violet was gone around that period. “It was an all-girls school, if I remember?”

Violet nodded. Luculia was getting the facts together. “Yes. The client I was with was a girl named Isabella York, which was just an alias given by her family. Her real name is Amy Bartlett. She was the one taking care of Taylor, until she was forced to leave, becoming a noble and sending Taylor to an orphanage. She was clearly saddened about this.”

“To speak about Amy herself... she was initially just as cold and distant as I was. But as I did my job, she started... to become more open. We would bathe together, sleep together, dance together, hold hands as we traversed through corridors... I must admit, it was nice for her to be around.”

The more Luculia listened, the more clear that whoever this Amy girl was, she and Violet... might have been a thing, at least for a while. “You sound as if she came to like you a lot in the end.”

“Yes, it seemed she was. And I came to like her as well. At first, it was just my duty, but some part of me then said, 'I actually want to be with her'. Around our last few days together, we danced. It was both the happiest and saddest thing to happen. I would have to leave soon. She would have to serve a man.”, Violet continued. Slowly, she frowned.

“I think she wanted to say she liked me, as I was about to leave, but I could not have been sure. But I did hear her story regarding Taylor. Benedict sent the letter to her, and three years, she came to us, ready to write a letter back.”, Violet concluded. As she said it, her voice become more grave and melancholic. She sounded so heartbroken. Luculia felt that she would hurt Violet if she asked about this further.

However, it did make her interested, what kind of person this girl, with the name of ‘Amy Bartlett’ was. She sounded like the one who could make a biography with her stories. As Mac and Cheese plates were being served, Luculia felt Lux tugging on her sleeve.

“Hey, a few months ago, when you first met Taylor, you were with a man, correct?“, Lux asked Luculia. “Is he your fiancee?”

Luculia got taken aback at this. “Urmm... no... just a colleague. He drives me around town for my photo-taking and documentary spots.”. With that, she also pointed to one of her fingers with a plain ring, to further remove any misconceptions. “And this ring... just a family heirloom. My family is a humble one, including me. I just wear it to remember to be humble and be committed to what I do. Wearing a ring need not necessarily mean you are engaged anymore, that is a notion of the past. Anyway, who told you that I was engaged?”, Luculia continued. So many misunderstandings. It was not that she hated men or... was of other sexuality, but was just too unsure about this ‘love’ thing, as much as Violet used to in the past.

“Urm... it was Iris and Erica. Overheard them in a conversation.”, Lux responded, sounding a bit disappointed.

“Don’t mind them, they are the openly lovey-dovey, old-century romance types.”, Violet sighed to Lux, as she was being served with pork ribs. She turned back to Luculia. “Luculia, did I say enough?”

“Yes. I think I heard enough.”, Luculia responded. It was best for her not to ask anymore. She could find out more herself. Not too soon afterwards, her Buffalo Wings were served, and she dug in.

...

Returning to her office, Luculia stopped to see all of the more accomplished photos and documentaries she had done. Even one Pullitzer! She had to get her cameras and posture fixed, to keep in shape. Turning, she stopped to see one of her favourite shots. There Violet was, wearing a special white dress, waiting at the camera. She looked like an angel with that suit and camera angle. Though, she never said where she got the dress from. 

Just then, a knock came from her office cubicle door. Opening it, was that colleague who drove her around. “Hertz? What is it?”

“A new documentary to be done, Luculia. Around the countrysides of Drossel.", Hertz responded, carrying an envelope in his hands. "The person wants you to be there tomorrow. She thinks you are best at the job.”

Luculia held the envelope with two steady hands. It was not her first time to the countryside, so why not? Opening it, she inspected the contents. One was the main invitation note, and another was a torn page from a newspaper. Luculia checked the latter first.

“Duke Neville... misogyny and corruption... disgraced... house destroyed... wife says nothing... Isabella York?”. Luculia widened her eyes as she read her name. Her memory never lies. This was the name Violet spoke of earlier with nostalgia.

Was it really her that Violet was talking about? Is it a coincidence? So many questions for a curious mind. But she knew, there was only one way to find out, only one. By being there, finding the full picture like a detective, can more be answered. Nothing can happen otherwise.

“I should prepare tonight, then. Earliest train to Drossel?”, Luculia said in a hush.

“Five thirty, in the morning.”, Hertz promptly responded. Early, as Luculia imagined. She would have to prepare. 

“Then I may need to be off early to prepare. Can you tell the boss?”, she said, putting on her green jacket and packing her documentary materials.

“Sure. Being hasty is part of the job.”, Hertz responded, assuring her that this will be covered.

With that, Luculia was out of the door. Just what was going to unfold for her? Was she really going to see the girl in Violet’s dreams? Faster, she said to herself. Even amongst her fast, busy and interesting job, she never felt this eager to do a mission before. 

Clutching the envelope in her hand, her bag in another, Luculia was out of the office. And as she did, the photo of Violet in the white dress, nestled in her bag through a hole between the zips, started to gleam and shimmer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luculia is basically Mahiru in this storyline. Thought they looked similar.
> 
> I also thought Lux and Taylor would make good friends.
> 
> Overall, this is the starting point to all the VE Yurifics I have been making.
> 
> PS: Seemed like Luculia had a ring during the film. Got to deal with that.


	2. You Can (Not) See (Yet)

It was not a long process for Luculia to find out who had sent the request, with an improvement in map making, address forming and the like. It was apparently from one of the people from another sector of the journalist company, right in Drossel. It was strange that they did not ask someone from Drossel to do it, but it was not like Luculia wanted to refuse the job anyway.

As seen from the invitation note, they had covered the trip to the Count’s mansion, though at the moment it is apparently still being stormed by angry protestors at the entrance, even though the Count has already been captured and is currently under interrogation. The Count was said to be a samaritan before the scandal came out, and it was no wonder they were pissed. They seemed to want to vandalise as much as they could, like the “artists” they were, this term literally written down clearly on the letter. It was in a rush as well, being written by pen rather than typewriter, and the handwriting was rather cursive.

Now, Luculia had just found her way home, unlocking the door, and stepping into her living room. For once, it was empty, and was a prove that conditions in her family had improved for once. Spencer had finally found a job he was fine with, and no one was there to ridicule. It did take a while to find one, however, but now he could be rest assured he was not a bother.

Stepping into her own bedroom, Luculia dug for all the things she needed for such a trip: Spare clothes, extra notepads, the camera, extra photography papers, a map of Drossel, and extra money. Though extra money was an issue and something unbelievable to her in the past, she was getting slightly better, due to her job. Still, she needed to save, for she did not know when she will need to use it all, like a debt or anything of that kind.

Now, a place to put all of the items inside. Finding a brown suitcase, Luculia neatly folded her clothes, map and all, before zipping the suitcase up. Next step, wind the clock. Finding her alarm clock, she wound it to the right timing. 4:30 would be ideal. 

With that, Luculia was just about finished. Would there be anything else, she pondered. Then, she turned to her small bag. There, the photo of Violet in her gleaming white dress shone. Picking it up, she took a look. She remembered she had took that picture during the first few months of her immersion into journalism. Violet never said where she got the dress from, however. Should she bring it? Why not? It could give her some motivation as well! She straightened the photo, and clutched it closely to her chest.

“Ah, Violet... you always look so beautiful...”, she sighed. With Violet’s beauty in both body and heart, no wonder so many girls could look up to her. Was she one of them? There was no shame in saying yes. Just then, a doorbell rang. That was... unusual, for others would just try to knock, if they wanted their payment or apology.

“I’m coming!“, Luculia shouted, fumbling with her keys and opening the door. But as she opened the door and turned left to right, no one was there. Admittedly, though, she had a bit of a hard time fumbling through her keys. However, she saw the position of her mailbox handle had been changed. Slowly, she walked to the mailbox and opened it, revealing one new letter, the flaps stuck together in a familiar red lump of wax. The name of the writer was also rather clear.

“Violet?”, she muttered in confusion. Just what was it that Violet had to pass her a letter rather than talk to her directly? And why did she leave so quickly? It was a bit rude for someone like her. Or was it that she was in a hurry? Taking out the letter, she inspected the contents. There was not just one piece of paper, but two. One was a small note, and therefore easier to read at the moment.

“Luculia, sorry if I cannot write to you about this formally, but I am in a rush. I think you might want to read about a letter I wrote to this “Amy Bartlett” you wanted to know, which I could not send because I never had the chance. Do not send it to her or anyone by yourself. This is just my feelings to her, and a summation to my life and hers, so that you might get a glimpse on what we were like back then. By the time you read this, I have already left for another ghostwriting mission. Love, your friend, Violet.”

Luculia then raised her head to see the empty streets reflected under the night. She then turned to the second paper. It was more clean and neat than the first cheap note. In this paper held what Violet wanted to say to Amy? And also reflected their life in the school? Luculia grew curious. If the lady she was going to meet really Amy Bartlett, should she send this to her? Should she read it now?

She wished she knew the answers to all of her questions.

...

(2 Years Ago)

“Violet, just where did you know how to dance?”, Luculia asked, as Violet made a silent waltz to impress her friend. She danced as if she was holding someone else in her arms. She looked like a prince dancing with a princess.

“A school. It was full of girls. We were all taught how to dance as if we were dancing with men.”, Violet calmly responded, still dancing and not skipping a beat.

“But you look more like you were in duets. And you dance more like a prince.”, Luculia continued.

“Whether it is the male and female form of dancing, singles or duets or groups, it matters not.”, Violet further said. “If it can express your love to someone, any type of dancing is alright.”

“And who do you love?”, Luculia asked. “Is it still your Major?”

Violet grew silent at this response.

...

(Present)

“Beep-beep! Beep-beep!”, the alarm clock rang, and a hand slowly came to stop it, pressing the button to stop the alarm. It was such a good dream. Why was it so early? Luculia pondered this, groggily looking at her clock, and how it was only 4:30 in the morning, where the skies were still dark. Then it hit her.

Her mission! Immediately remembering this, she got up. 30 minutes countdown, get dressed and prepare all of her bags, she told herself. In 10 minutes, she had her shower. In another 10 minutes, she was fully dressed, not forgetting to wear her "ring of commitment" to make herself look more respectable. In the last 10 minutes, as her personal watch struck 5:00, she was ready to go out of the door.

Before that, however, she turned to see her house for one more time. Spencer was still resting on the couch, like he always would. Turning back, Luculia wrapped a woolen blanket over him, to make sure he did not get a cold. Now she was rest assured. With that, she closed the door, locked it, and was on her way.

After finding her bus stop which could take her to Leiden’s main station, Luculia took her seat on one of the chairs, looking at when the first tram would arrive. 5 minutes from now. Perfect. With that, she carefully looked at the letter Violet was wanting to write to “Amy Bartlett”, and took a deep breath. She then thought about the dream she had before, and it all added up perfectly. Now, the only thing, was to confirm, the girl she was to meet in the afternoon was really her. She could now only twiddle her thumbs and hope that it was really her. And even if she wasn’t, her situation as of now is still palpable. No one wants to see their husband be so unfaithful and lowly.

It was then did the tram arrive, and Luculia took a step inside. She, and the driver, was the only one in the tram. “You’re off early, Miss. Which stop?”, the driver asked, twirling his grey beard. 

“Go all the way. To Leiden’s main station.”, Luculia responded, while taking her seat. Without a word, the driver pushed the pedals, and the tram moved once more. 

There was no one else at the subsequent stops, and the driver thus continued on without waiting. In 10 more minutes, they had arrived, at the grand train station, the only building still brightly lit in the still-dark sky, and only a few commuters, up to ten to twenty of them, came in to the station.

“Thank you, Sir.”, Luculia responded, giving the man her change of twenty cents. With that, stepping out to cold hard ground, and up the steps to the station lobby, one hand carrying a booked ticket from the day before, she prepared for her next journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what Violet wrote there will be a bit of a Chekhov’s device. Though, it is likely really wholesome, given Luculia’s reaction.
> 
> In some subtext I wrote, you can see Luculia was a bit into Violet as well...


	3. You Can (Not) Help Yourself

It did not take long for Luculia’s train to arrive at the platform, and it was a good thing, since she was starting to get sleepy on the benches. Walking to the train, she stopped and took notice on how different the trains had all become. No more were trains running on steam and emitting big black trails of smoke, and there was not even a chimney anymore. Rather than having flat faces at the front of the train, the trains now were pointed, like the snout of a duck. They were apparently called “locomotives”, and operated using electricity instead of coal. Wires hung above the trains, the ones supplying it power. As Luculia took a step inside one of the carriages, putting her bag on the ground and resting her head at the window, she pulled out one of the newest newspapers she had bought at the train station, and took a quick look, just to pass the time. The time taken to go to Drossel from Leiden would be approximately five hours, so there is no need to hurry. She could even have time to take a nap. Back when trains still operated on steam, she would have needed an entire day to get there.

Flipping through the pages, she saw the photos printed on the papers, black and white but clear as can be. It was because of the journalist industry that she worked in, that allowed this to happen. Before this industry became big, newspapers only had words, and no one can tell if what was written was true or false. It was also really boring to look at, just endless lines of words people do not need. Only when pictures were applied to them, could more and more stories be validated and be more fun to look at. And it was due to the hard work of people like her. She could recognise some picture she had took herself, from zoos to aquariums being built, and also a snowy mountain in the distance. A picture speaks a thousand words, they say, but to Luculia, they are worth millions to her heart. Just then, she spotted a picture that was not hers nor one she recognised from her company, which made Luculia curious.

The title read “Poverty around Drossel: A tragedy of the past”. Must be quite a sad tale, Luculia imagined, and the pictures really showed to back it up. There were snowy mountains, half-broken down wooden huts, and people huddling in the fire in rags. Interesting, Luculia thought, and she started to read between the lines. To summarise, even four years after the war, the effects it has cast upon the world, poverty still existed. People are still begging, lacking food or water, still wanting something to be done. The horrors of war still linger, after all. Just as Luculia was about to put the newspaper down, there was one more sentence that caught her attention.

“There have been only a few occasions when nobles had tried to enter the rural village. One notable example was Mr. York, who took in his illegitimate daughter to become part of the nobility. Such behaviour has been criticised by the other villagers, and believed that he was trying to save face. Others have also wished that more nobility can help them with this crisis, which so far, no one has expressed their intent to fork out a dollar.”

York… this made Luculia curious. So many coincidences. But none about it. Still, it made her a bit angry inside. So many people either sweating or shivering, and the higher class do nothing but play cello and eat on marshmallows. It was reflective of her own situation, and she remembered that no one had helped her or Spencer in their time of need except Violet. Everyone else had just made fun and assaulted them like they were vermin. The rich hate the poor, and the poor hate the rich. Never-ending violence.

All of this, was starting to make her sleepy. As she put down the newspaper and closed her eyes, she felt the ground moving underneath her feet. Her journey had started. She might as well get some shuteye for now.

…

(Meanwhile)

Amy woke up to the sound of silence, contrary to the protests and shouts she had to endure throughout the night. Right now, the only thing she could hear was the sound of birds chirping. The police had been called last night to quell the violence breaking out, but there is no telling when they might come back for more. Finally, some peace and quiet, Amy thought, walking past the freshly-taped windows, broken with bricks.

Walking through the empty hallways, she thought to herself that even amongst all that has happened, this was not so different from what it used to be during the first few months of her so-called marriage. The love between her and Count Neville was essentially nonexistent. Here the Count was, trudging around Drossel and could only care to show off. Anytime he is at home, which is in itself far between and few, he pretends to care and treat her well, when all he wants is Amy to try to be obedient. Maybe this incident, and the accursed instructions were just a slip of his true colours. Every time he tried to bribe her, Amy tried to smile as much as she could, but it was not like she wanted to. In fact, she hated it. Amy was as good as alone in the mansion, with no one around her. Certainly not them.

Yeah, she was not going to ever see Violet and Taylor, was she? The orders given to her was always to stay inside the mansion and just be a housewife, never to go out or have anyone who is not the Count, or the guards, the maids, and maybe some figures of authority inside the mansion. And besides, they would not want to see her like this either. With that thought, she then felt a familiar pain her throat. Dropping to the ground, Amy clutched her chest, and started to cough and wheeze. She could not tell which one was more painful.

Making tea in the kitchen, along with reaching out for her cough medication, Amy took a sip of both. Ugh. Both bitter. She tried to reach out for the sugar box. No more clumps of sugar, neither refined nor raw. Great, what a way to start a day. Just then, there came the sound of cars stopping by to the road. Opening the curtains and peeping from the windows, she saw a few steam cars, and some men dressed in brown clothing taking photos. They seemed to be laughing. Opening the main door of her mansion, Amy stepped out to see what was going on.

“Let’s make a great press. Let’s make a mockery of this family!”

“That will teach that big oaf to be a rapist, and his wife to be so dumb! Hahahaha!”

Amy had nothing but silence at this response. So her fears were confirmed. They were right to an extent, she thought. Maybe she was dumb. Even if someone bothered to interview her, what could she say? That she regretted the marriage since day one, or that she was always locked inside? Still, it hurt her a little, that they just went ahead with such assumptions. As she thought about this, the group noticed her.

“Oh shit! She’s watching! Run for it!”, the men screamed, immediately jumping back inside their cars and pulling away. Amy just stopped and watched. She never had a say about herself. She had always been forced to have others make their judgements on her. She thought she could be a free bird someday, but in the end, she was always caged. Going out of one cage just meant she would end up in another. Her fate had been sealed since birth.

Returning back to the mansion and heading out of the back door, she walked to her garden. Once a beautiful display of various flowers, most were now either burned or pruned into ugly proportions. Multiple broken eggs were on the ground. Amy observed it all. Not even her old slums were as ugly a sight as this. She once loved to wander in gardens, as she would with Violet all those years ago. But now, there is no more fun, not in this wretched excuse of one. She slowly walked back, closing her eyes, letting a single tear fall, and which may not be the last in a while.

…

(5 Hours Later)

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are reaching Drossel’s main station. Thank you for joining us on this journey. Have a pleasant trip.”. Hearing the conductors’ words from a megaphone, Luculia slowly woke up. Checking her watch, indeed, 5 hours had passed. It was now 11 in the morning, just in time for lunch. To speak of lunch, her stomach started to rumble. Great. She intended to get breakfast in the train, but she just slept right through the whole journey. Peering out of the windows once more, the sun was already up, and they were close to the station. She could see many train lines converging, along with some buildings in the distance. She opened the zip of her bag, and pulled out her envelop. It told her to meet as soon as possible, and the outpost was just a few blocks away from the station.

Slowly, the train entered the station, coming to a halt near the platform. Luculia watched as the conductors came and opened the doors. Being the nearest to the door, Luculia headed out first, only having a small amount of luggage with her. As she stepped out, she felt the cold breeze brush against her, a signal that autumn was soon to arrive. Many people came out after her, and from the other carriages, with different luggages at hand. Their purposes of coming here must have all been different, but it mattered not to Luculia. Her own purpose is all that is important.

Ignoring the carved statues or the other trains, Luculia headed for the exit of the station, making her personal memo, to go to the outpost after lunch. Heading out to the streets, Luculia found just the right place. In front of her eyes was a small patisserie, cheap enough for her liking. She walked to the restaurant, and searched through their menu. There was much variety, but Luculia already knew what she wanted, settling for a small cheeseburger and a bottle of milk. With that, she entered the restaurant, taking her seat and making her order.

The meal came relatively fast, and in under just half an hour, Luculia was done and out of the restaurant. She had also got the directions to the outpost, and she just needed to go left a few times. Doing as she was told by the helpful waitress, Luculia indeed saw the white building in the distance.

Now, her mission was truly about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick flashes to Amy's past, to any observant eye.
> 
> Also, poor Amy, man.


	4. You Can (Not) Begin

As Luculia took a step inside the lobby of the outpost, she immediately felt the waft inside, and knew that this building had to be new. She turned to the surroundings, where it was mostly white, the walls made of glass and acrylic, and art pieces being hung from ceilings. Men and women alike wore black and grey business suits, coming in and out, all looking rather sophisticated. It made Luculia a bit nervous, looking at her own green dress, feeling a bit out of place, something like being in a previous era. But no, this was not the time to mope. 

Luculia walked onward to the concierge, where the clerk there took notice. “May I help you, Miss?”, the clerk at the concierge asked the redhead in front of her.

“Yes, I am from the main building, in Leiden, Luculia Marlborough. Do you have that name?”, Luculia asked at the concierge, while the clerk was scanning through the books for her name. "Ah, yes, Luculia Marlborough. Indeed, from the main building there. This means that you must have come for a documentary we sent. Please specify your report to be done?”, the clerk then asked.

“It will be this.”, Luculia simply responded, while pulling out the envelope that had been sent to her, passing it to the clerk, who made a few quick glances to it. “Ah, yes, and right on time. Our group have just finished preparing for you.”, the clerk replied with a smile, showing Luculia to her place with a swing of her left hand. Luculia turned, seeing an open door, and walked towards it. Keep calm, she silently told herself, like she always would. It was always important to maintain the best image to anyone.

Stepping inside, she saw that it was a small ballroom, with just a few chairs, facing the stage. There were only two people inside. “Ah, she is the one. Welcome, Miss Marlborough, take a seat.”, the man sporting short, black and wavy hair said, seeing the newcomer in the room, while carrying a small photo in his palm.

“Thank you for the honours.”, Luculia responded, doing as she was told, taking her seat. “I must say, it is a marvellous honour upon me to do this. But I must ask, in my humble opinion, why I was specifically to be the one. Would it not be more convenient to have someone from here, Drossel, to do this?”, she continued in curiosity.

“We could do that, but this is an assignment we do not wish to mess up.”, the second man, sporting orange hair tied in a small ponytail at the back added in. “We are interviewing a noble, not just a mere commoner.”

“In addition, it is a great honour to have you with us, Miss Marlborough. Such opportunities do not come easily.”, the first continued. A great honour, Luculia pondered. Was she really so special? And was the difference between nobles and commoners so vast? For her, even if she was not as famed, nor was her client just as famed or of high class, she would do her job to serve them nonetheless. Class and fame means nothing. A story had to be told. Someone has to tell them.

“I find no need for the formalities. If you need more time with preparing the briefing, it is alright.”, Luculia calmly responded, trying to maintain an atmosphere of politeness and courtesy. “No, Miss Marlborough, we have just finished, just moments before you arrived.”, the second man responded. “If it does not bother you, we can start now.”

The second man then paused for a moment. “Oh, yeah, our bad. We forgot to introduce ourselves. We know you, but I doubt you know us. Miss Marlborough, you can call me Augustus.”

“And my name is Morpheus.”, the first man added in. It was frankly a shame that they nearly forgot the most important part of an introduction. Luculia, easily forgiving of this accidental rudeness, took the names in, and pronounced them repeatedly in her mind. Even if they would only meet once, names are always to be remembered. “Morpheus. Augustus. Morpheus. Augustus. Alright, understood.”

…

“So, living around the outskirts of Drossel is Count Neville, and his unseen wife. Nobody has known what she looks like, and all that is known is that her name is, Isabella York, the illegitimate child of the York Patriarch.”, Augustus said, while using his metal pointer to give Luculia the given facts at hand. As he finished saying this, Morpheus stepped forward, carrying his notes. “As you might have read in the paper we have given, the Count has been caught in the act of misogyny and bribery. More specifically, he was seen coming out of a strip club, touching two teenage girls working there. He was also spotted giving the people who saw him nearby hundreds of dollars to keep them silent. Of course, some were incorruptible, and “sold out” to the police.”

Luculia listened, rather uncomfortable, even though she already read the paper a few times. It was quite shocking, how untouchable these aristocrats and nobles thought they were. Did they really expect to get away? Did they really expect the proletariats to agree to their demands just because of their class or their money they are giving out? No, people had more sense of justice and right than that. Class is not to be flexed and exploited. 

“The police initially thought this to be a joke. But more and more people came out, and they started making checks. In one stakeout, they spotted him in the same place once again.”, Augustus continued. “He was promptly arrested and interrogated. Needless to say, this made headlines. You would have understood the rest.”

Luculia nodded, as Morpheus moved to another slide, flipping the papers clipped to the whiteboard to another page. “Mrs York has refused to leave her mansion amidst the riots and protests to explain herself. The other news press are also now making all sorts of wild stories, that she is subservient or an idiot, without attempting any interviews. This worries us. We want the truth. What is her side of the story? We thought that you might be the best one to interview her.”

Luculia looked down at this. So that was why they wanted her to do this. It was clear that Isabella was some form of a shut-in. It would require patience, a skilled choice of words and some form of empathy to interview someone like her. These were things that Luculia was good at, even if she was not one to brag. 

Now… it would not hurt for more information about her. “Is there any information about Mrs York’s upbringing, like her school, or her friends?”. Both Morpheus and Augustus put their hands to their chins. It was clear that amongst their briefing, this was a question they themselves had little knowledge about.

“Hmm, this one is something we have little information about… you see, Mrs York’s past itself is an enigma. From what we have discovered, she is actually a illegitimate daughter, and was formerly living in the slums near Drossel. She was taken back to riches by the York Patriarch.”, Morpheus responded, slightly confused by how to answer this. "She attended a school meant to raise her into a perfect noble, but was lagging behind compared to the other students, so her father hired a tutor. It was a famed Auto Memoria Doll. What was her name?”

Hearing this last fact made Luculia’s eyes widen and light up a little. “Would it be Violet Evergarden?”

Both men turned, in shock by the name. “Y-yes. It was her. The York Patriarch wanted a Doll with high class and virtue, and Miss Evergarden fit the conditions perfectly.”, Augustus replied, remembering this fact. Luculia heaved a sigh of relief. So it really was Violet. That meant that Isabella York was indeed Amy Bartlett. She feared she would have to inquire about this to Isabella, which might make her uncomfortable and dismissive, something that Luculia did not want. “Is there anything else?”, Augustus asked, wondering if there are any more questions that need to be answered.

Luculia pondered about this, and realised that she had one more inquiry. “Does Mrs York ever go out? Does she have a job?”

“Not at all. She is, as far as we are concerned, a recluse. Her only role in the house is as a housewife.”, Morpheus replied. This question was much easier to answer, the facts more clear. “To start, we doubt if she is truly a wife. The marriage was repeatedly rumoured to be just a forced and arranged one.”

That... sounded awful, Luculia thought. Jobless and loveless, that is a rather hollow existence, isn’t it? “I guess you have no more questions?”, Augustus asked, coming up to Luculia.

“Yes, I have understood enough.”, Luculia responded. The two smiled, before Morpheus carefully packed up the sheaf of papers stuck to the whiteboard, and Augustus prepared a key. “It is a two hour drive from here, Miss Marlborough. All of our necessary equipment has also been prepared.”, Augustus told Luculia. “Let me show you to the car. I also honestly advise that you start thinking about the questions with whatever time you have.”

“Thank you, Sir.”, Luculia responded. Just at that response, Augustus froze. “Miss Marlborough, there is no need for formalities. It is just Augustus. In fact, if it suits you more, just call me August. You said there is no need for formalities earlier, correct?”

“August.”, Luculia responded. It was, frankly, a surprise. Even if it was what she wanted, she never expected someone to actually be fine with this so quickly. And yet, it was not like she was going to argue about it.

...

(2 Hours Later)

They were now two hours into the drive, and at any moment, they should reach the mansion soon. Luculia rested at the back seat of the van, having finished writing some potential questions and follow-ups. Taking a look at the trees and farms everywhere, it was clear that they were so far away from civilization. If a theme could be deduced from the painting in front of her eyes, it was undoubtedly solitude. It made Luculia’s heart feel hollow inside. Was Isabella lonely? Was it what she had to feel all the time? Such questions appeared in Luculia’s mind, now that the new environment so vividly painted this sensation. In any other place, maybe she would never had asked this to herself.

Luculia then remembered, her mother once telling her about loneliness. “Loneliness is not the lack of company. It is the lack of purpose.”. Not having much friends was already an issue, but not having a reason to live, to enjoy life, now that was dreadful. This was the life Isabella York was living.

Just then, her eyes glimpsed upon a building in the distance, amidst all of the greens. Nearby was a river, blue and crystal-clear. She looked at the front side of the van. Morpheus and Augustus were also looking at the place rather pensively.

“Is that?”, Luculia asked in curiosity. It... it had to be the place, right?

“Yes.”, Augustus responded. “That is the house of Count Neville... no, just Isabella York.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two OCs will actually have more relevance than you think. It is in the names. Otherwise, they are just Luculia’s current partners for the interview, and give her info about Isabella’s situation.
> 
> The quote about loneliness is from Guillermo Maldonado.


	5. You Can (Not) Protect

The van slowed down as they drove closer to the mansion, and that was when the three were able to get a glimpse of the walls surrounding the place, and the damages done to it. Luculia could not help but gasp a little, for even though she already knew that the place would be vandalised, she never thought it would be to such a cruel extent.

Some parts of the wall surrounding the mansion had been demolished, with some of the stray bricks still being left on the road. The walls that were still intact were disgraced in another way, being full of graffiti and broken eggs. Some vines and bushes that lay near the walls were burnt. There was a ladder still hanging on the wall. The van came to a halt near the gates, which had been damaged as well in some parts.

“Has Mrs York or any of the people in the mansion ever asked to rebuild or clean the walls?”, Luculia asked the two in confusion. “Why would she?”, Morpheus calmly responded. “In another day, the walls would probably be vandalised again.”

This was true, as Luculia realised and lamented. She thought back of times when delinquents in her middle school painted on walls. When they were scolded and the walls were repainted, they were tainted with graffiti just the next week. Some efforts just don’t last, do they?

“Hey, Morphy, refresh my memory. Is Mrs York still supposed to be in this mansion?”, Augustus asked his friend. “Does she have any rights to keep the mansion?”

Morpheus took out a paper from one of the compartments, and read it thoroughly. “Looking at the law, it is less of rights, and just for safekeeping. Though, Mrs York could just give the place up to the authorities if she wants to.”

Augustus then scratched his head. “Wait I remember something... I doubt she can do that at all, even if she wants to.”

“Why?”, Luculia questioned. Augustus turned his head. “Well, Miss Marlborough, it seems that Count Neville has kept a law, that prevents Mrs York from leaving the mansion, even if she wants to. It also stops her from letting anyone enter the place, save for cases like us. This applies even should anything happen to the Count himself.” 

Luculia frowned a little. This law sounded... pretty diabolical, for some reason. It was as if Count Neville was some type of control freak. One should let their significant other to be free to choose where they want to go, or who they want to have inside the mansion.

“It sounds wrong, isn’t it?”, Augustus commented. “The Parliament sure thinks the same thing. Now, because of this case, and a few others, they are considering whether laws like these should still be utilised when the family head is arrested. Especially when the family head is the only one left in the family.”

That was a bit relieving for Luculia to hear. Seems like the monarchy are also pursuing this case, along with similar ones.

“We can talk about this later.”, Morpheus interrupted the two, as he got out of the van. “We got a job to do.”

Of course, Luculia understood, as she heard this. Maybe they could talk to Isabella about this.

...

The three, having fully prepared their necessary items for the interview, walked to the gate. It was not locked, or at least that was what it seemed.

“Someone cut through the locks of the gate.”, Augustus mused, inspecting the back of the gate. “Must have been a sword.”

“So they did not just want to vandalise the walls?”, Luculia asked in fear.

“You don’t say.”, Morpheus replied, pointing to the mansion itself. It has fared no better than its walls. It has also been egged and vandalised in multiple areas. The windows were either taped up or replaced with cardboard sheets, suggesting that they were broken. Some rocks and bricks not from the mansion itself were left stray on the yard.

“I thought that they would just vandalise the walls. But they had to go for a mile and break inside just to further rough up the place.”, Augustus commented in surprise. “They must really hate the Count now.”

“This is quite a scary sight.”, Luculia muttered, unable to find the right words to describe it, the carnal damage across the property. It was deserved for the Count, but at the same time, not so for Isabella, who must have been terrified. Just then, she heard the repeated rustling of leaves in the background. Someone was running towards her.

“Hey, Mrs York, eat this!”, a man shouted from afar. As Luculia turned to face the man, she only saw a rock being thrown towards her.

Before she could even react to defend herself in the slightest, the rock struck her square on the head. A brief, but sudden and agonising pain overwhelmed Luculia in that instant.

“Ah-”

With a single gasp of shock, Luculia lost her balance and slumped backwards, falling down on the road.

“Miss Marlborough! Hey!”

That was the last thing Luculia heard, before everything suddenly faded to black.

...

(Meanwhile)

Amy lay in her bedroom, stretching her arms out, staring to blank space. She had been doing this for a few hours since she finished her lunch, which she made herself.

Some remaining maidens and guards, who had not resigned, had asked her to read a book or write on her diary as she used to, to pass the time. Admittedly, she tried, but she could not find any way for her to write down these chain of terrible events. Everytime she put her pen to the papers in the diary, her arms would just grow heavy and weary.

Now, this was all she felt like doing. She just wanted to cling on to whatever comfort she could find. Especially, when some comforts could never be found again.

“Dring! Dring!”

Amy’s ears perked up. What was that sound?

“Dring! Dring! Dring!”

And then it hit her. It was the doorbell ringing. She rose from the bed. Who was it?

Going out of her bedroom and rushing down the stairs, Amy continued to wonder who awaited beyond the door. It could not have been protestors, who would just rudely knock and kick the door. Was it some authorities? Was it the blonde mailman? Was it Violet? She just prayed it was the latter two, as she reached the door.

Seeing through the peephole, she instead saw two men. One had short black hair, and the other had orange hair tied to a small ponytail. It was a shame, Amy lamented. But now, it was not the time to mope.

She looked at the men once more. They had no form of malice, and in fact looked rather concerned. Amy was pensive. Could she trust them to not attack her, when she opened the door? Maybe, she should ask some questions, just to be sure.

“Pardon, but why would you two gentlemen be here?”, Amy asked through the door.

“A girl is unconscious on the road. She had been hit by a rock from a protestor.”, the black-haired man responded, with a tone of urgency.

A girl? Injured? Amy opened the door. “Where is the girl? I do not have any skill in first aid, but I can help with all I can.”

The men moved aside, revealing the injured girl, resting on the ground. Amy rushed closer to her, checking to her injuries.

The girl sported red hair, but it was much brighter than Amy’s own. She sported freckles as well, and wore green clothing. Her head was bleeding profusely, and the blood was already forming a stain on the floor. An injury indeed. 

“Take her inside.”, Amy hastily told the two. “I will get the first aid kit.”

As they did as they were told, Amy went to her bedroom, where she kept the box full of bandages and medicine. The Count never really settled for one, so Amy asked the guards to get one. She got it out, and opened it. Thankfully, it was still in full supply.

Going back down with haste, she gave the bandages and disinfectant to the two men, who proceeded to tend to the girl, now placed on a couch.

“Why was she attacked?”, Amy asked the two. The girl before her looked like she could do no one any wrong.

“I don’t know. The man referred to her as you, Mrs York. I think he wanted to attack you instead, and thought she was you.”, the orange-haired man calmly responded.

Amy pondered over the things she heard. She would probably be attacked at some point due to the current events. The girl before her did sort of look similar to her as well, at least from afar. The men probably knew her name from the news. But why were they around the mansion in the first place, if they were not attacking or mocking her? Where did they come from?

“Why are you three around this mansion?”, Amy asked the two. The black-haired man turned back up to her. “To interview you. We come from Bifröst. We want to know your side of the story, about this whole mess.”

Amy, hearing the man’s words, became confused. She thought about earlier. The previous news firms did not bother with interviews, and just cared with their own judgements and assumptions. And yet, this group wanted the truth? They wanted to know her story? 

“What are your names?”, Amy asked, still trying to process it all. “Call me Augustus.”, the orange-haired man responded, before pointing to the black-haired man. “His name is Morpheus.”

Amy then looked at the red-haired girl. “And who might she be?”

Morpheus looked to the girl as well, whose head was now fully bandaged. “Her name is Luculia Marlborough, Mrs York.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bifröst is the company’s name I made up. Pretty cool.
> 
> And yes, I really thought Luculia and Amy looked alike at some point.


End file.
